[The answer accepted and echoed without amendment, Leto's head ducking down into a shallow nod in silent echo. But he watches him carefully as Astarion continues on. It's the farthest thing from hopeful, but nor is it utterly despairing, and that's good. That counts. Now that Cazador has become more real, it matters so much that while Astarion's knees might buckle and his terror might rear, his first impulse isn't to cower or ignore, but grimly face the threat head-on.]
What do you wish to do?
[For Leto has a thousand ideas born from a hundred plans plotted out in the dead of night. He has gone over how to best kill a vampire lord again and again in his mind, adding in details and drawbacks as Astarion has offered them. He's learned all the most deadly spells for vampires (sunlight a miracle of a one, but there are others); he's trained fiercely, throwing himself into combining his swordplay and his magic, honing himself to fight against a creature that, on paper, he's hopelessly outmatched by.
(But there's a reason vampires are so secretive. There's a reason they both mind their tongue when they're not alone, or take pains to ensure that Astarion is seen hanging around during the day, albeit indoors. Vampires aren't infallible. And though it would be a mistake to underestimate them, oh, they are far from immortal).
A beat, and he adds gently:]
It is a matter of time, yes. But not tonight. You need not have a plan just yet. You need not do anything tonight, save reel.
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[The answer accepted and echoed without amendment, Leto's head ducking down into a shallow nod in silent echo. But he watches him carefully as Astarion continues on. It's the farthest thing from hopeful, but nor is it utterly despairing, and that's good. That counts. Now that Cazador has become more real, it matters so much that while Astarion's knees might buckle and his terror might rear, his first impulse isn't to cower or ignore, but grimly face the threat head-on.]
What do you wish to do?
[For Leto has a thousand ideas born from a hundred plans plotted out in the dead of night. He has gone over how to best kill a vampire lord again and again in his mind, adding in details and drawbacks as Astarion has offered them. He's learned all the most deadly spells for vampires (sunlight a miracle of a one, but there are others); he's trained fiercely, throwing himself into combining his swordplay and his magic, honing himself to fight against a creature that, on paper, he's hopelessly outmatched by.
(But there's a reason vampires are so secretive. There's a reason they both mind their tongue when they're not alone, or take pains to ensure that Astarion is seen hanging around during the day, albeit indoors. Vampires aren't infallible. And though it would be a mistake to underestimate them, oh, they are far from immortal).
A beat, and he adds gently:]
It is a matter of time, yes. But not tonight. You need not have a plan just yet. You need not do anything tonight, save reel.